


All Our Yesterdays

by Verdigris (Inspirent)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gay nerds being gay, Honestly just sappy af, Jake English is a huge dork, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Sburb, Slow paced I suppose, Trans Character, Trans Dirk Strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspirent/pseuds/Verdigris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You almost miss him when he does show up, because he walks straight past you, almost out of your line of sight. He scans the shelves, fingers trailing across the books almost aimlessly. He eventually selects one and turns around, and your gaze drops back to the book you're reading currently. You jump a bit when a soft, slightly hesitant-sounding voice catches your attention. </p><p>"Mind if I sit?"</p><p>AS YOU CAN PROBABLY TELL, THIS IS MOST LIKELY DISCONTINUED. SORRY ALL. ://</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo everyone who just so happens to be reading this! This will be my first fanfic I've ever posted to AO3, or online at all, for that matter. It's a much more nerve wracking experience than I first thought it might be, to be quite honest. However, I hope that anyone reading enjoys my work, please let me know if there's anything that needs to be adjusted or somesuch, as I'm new to actually posting to the site. I'm hoping to have chapter 2 up soon enough, though I'm unfortunately a bit of a slow writer. Stay tuned, though, and thanks for reading!
> 
> (Also, this fic will have some mature content later on, I may have to change the rating to explicit if it gets too out of hand, whoops.)

_"Out, out, brief candle!_ _Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."_

It's 12:39 p.m. on a rainy Saturday. You've taken up your normal place in the local library, curled around a well-loved copy of Shakespeare's _Macbeth_. The pages are worn beneath your calloused fingers, familiar. You can't even remember how many times you've read this play. How many times you've read any worthwhile piece of literature, really. Reading is one of your favorite pastimes, which is a bit obvious considering you're an English professor.

Your name is Jacob English, and you love the library. Some would say it contrasts with your boisterous nature, that you spend hours in here when really, how is it even possible that you can even stay still that long? You honestly don't know yourself; something about books, about immersing yourself in a different world, seems so appealing. It always has, ever since you were a child and your grandmother used to read to you nightly.

You smile sadly at the fond memories, gaze wandering upwards. You feel a slight discomfort, as if someone is watching you, but everyone around you seems absorbed in their own activities. You turn your head, gaze landing on a stranger who has his head turned slightly towards you.

You can't tell if he's watching you or not because his eyes are covered by odd-looking pointed sunglasses. He looks away after a moment, if he was even looking at you in the first place. You turn back around, resuming your reading. You try to ignore it, but you feel an odd tugging sensation in your gut. You only make it about a minute before turning around, brows furrowed. He's gone.

You push your glasses up on your nose, struggling to forget what had just happened. You couldn't, the image, the feeling that you need to talk to this person is engraved in your mind, so much so that you can't concentrate on your reading.

After a while, you pack your things, placing the scripts gently back in their proper places, and head out of the building. You spare one last glance back through the rain, though you're not exactly sure what you're looking for. A strange feeling of disappointment floods you as you see nobody else outside, but you brush it off, walking back towards your apartment.

}} ♡ {{

It's a few days before you see the man again, a few visits to the library spent idly scanning the people that walk past. You almost miss him when he does show up, because he walks straight past you, almost out of your line of sight. He scans the shelves, fingers trailing across the books almost aimlessly. He eventually selects one and turns around, and your gaze drops back to the book you're reading currently. You jump a bit when a soft, slightly hesitant-sounding voice catches your attention.

"Mind if I sit?" You look up sharply. He's standing a few feet away from you, gesturing halfheartedly to the other seat at the small table. You stare at him dumbly for a moment before nodding your head. He takes the seat across from you, leisurely leaning back and crossing his legs as he opens the book. You can't help but stare at him, and you can't quite explain why. Something about him, how he looks, his air of uncaring ease, is so frustratingly familiar. After a moment, you break the silence.

"Do... have we met before?" His head tilts up slightly, and his eyebrows raise a bit, the only indication that he heard you.

"Nah, don't think so, unless you've ever visited Texas." He says, his voice still extremely soft. He has a small hint of a Southern accent, though it seems like he's trying to conceal it. You shake your head.

"Sorry, you just look... really familiar. It's sort of frustrating, actually." You admit, a small frown tugging at your mouth. The man raises an eyebrow at you, taking a moment to reply, as if calculating the best response.

"Yeah, I kind of got that same vibe from you, which is why I sat here instead of at any of the other open tables." He gestures slightly towards the rest of the room, and you look around, noting the empty tables scattered about. Your tongue runs along the edge of your teeth thoughtfully. Rather odd that you both find one another familiar.

"Jacob English." You say, extending your hand. He takes it lightly after a moment, as if wary of touching you.

"Dirk Strider." Is his hesitant response. You are flooded with a sense of recollection at hearing his name, but again, you have no idea why. You smile, gesturing down to the book in his hands. "Fan of George Orwell, there, Strider?"

You spend the next few hours discussing novels and plays, as well as your lives. You learn many things about Dirk. He just moved here from Texas because he's gotten a new job at a local club as a DJ. He visits the library almost as frequently as you do, you just haven't run into each other until now. He's a few months older than you, which you find slightly surprising. He looks so much younger, the lines of his face smooth, and his pale skin spattered with boyish freckles.

You also learn that, unfortunately, Dirk has to leave by a certain time to get to work early so he can make sure all of his sound equipment is working. He leaves at around 7:00, but not before inviting you to go to the club tonight. You think for a moment before accepting, slightly hesitantly. Clubs aren't really your crowd, the music has always been too loud and obnoxious, and the people extremely... well, to put it bluntly, /grabby/. But something urges you to go, to get to know this man, you can't let him leave you again. You... can't let him leave, you mean. Dirk exits the library with a nod, and your gaze follows him until he rounds the corner outside.

}} ♡ {{

You were right to be wary about coming to this place. The club is fairly well kept, though the people inside are... disgusting, to be frank. You grimace as a (probably drunk) person loses their balance and topples onto you, and you run your hand through your hair, sighing. You are eventually able to get through the mess of bodies and to the bar, plopping down on one of the stools. The bass of the music playing thrums loudly, humming through your body and making you feel slightly warm.

"Ya gonna have somethin' or are ya just takin' a breather?" A female's voice asks. Your head snaps towards the noise, and you stare at the bartender as she grins at you.

"Didn't mean to catch you off guard there, buddy." She laughs, hand moving to adjust her white hair. You manage to stammer a reply, ordering a whisky, and she grins and winks at you with one pink-irised eye. "Comin' right up there, hun." She says cheerfully, and- god, is she flirting with you?

Your eyes stay locked onto her as she prepares drinks and takes other orders. She's pretty. Very pretty. She's obviously albino, with her off-white hair and stunning eyes. She also seems to be from New York or something, if you're recognizing the accent correctly. Yet another thing: she seems to be flirting with you, though something makes you think that she's the kind of person to casually flirt with everyone. You're so lost in thought that you nearly fall off of your barstool in surprise when a hand claps lightly against your back.

"Sup, English?" You turn your head and your gaze lands on Dirk, who appeared from practically nowhere at your side. You look over to the unmanned DJ booth. He must've lined up a few premixed songs to play as he's taking a break. He leans over the counter slightly to get the bartender's attention, and she heads over with two drinks in hand."Saw ya headin' over here." She says, grinning at him. He nods before turning to you again.

"This is Roxy." He says, gesturing at her. "If she tries to flirt with you, ignore her." Roxy looks a bit put out, and rolls her eyes. "What, d'you have dibs on him or somethin'?" She asks, and you nearly choke on the whiskey you're trying to swallow. You manage to get it down and cough a few times, face feeling hot. Roxy snorts, and Dirk raises an eyebrow at you.

"No, nobody has 'dibs' on him, Roxy." He says, then hesitates for a moment. "At least, I don't think so." You shake your head slightly, still a bit spooked by everything that's happening. You aren't used to this much noise and this many people around you, it's quite intimidating. Dirk hums. "He's just a friend." He explains vaguely. Roxy rolls her eyes again, and then gives Dirk an odd look. You're not sure what it means, but Dirk seems to look away almost immediately. "Don't you have drinks to be making or something? I could always tell Rufioh that you're slacking off." Roxy sighs and turns away to take more drink orders. "That's what I thought." Dirk mutters before taking a sip of his drink.

Your fingers tap lightly against the side of your glass as you stare at the counter top. Dirk raises an eyebrow at you.

"What's up, English? You're being awful quiet." He comments, finishing off his drink and setting it on the counter. You just blink at him for a while, eyes wide, before clearing your throat awkwardly. "Ah, yes, well, I'm not really one for crowds or anything. Large groups of people are rather... intimidating." You admit, frowning slightly. Dirk's eyebrows raise slightly, barely hinting at his obvious surprise. You bite your lip. It is pretty stupid that someone who seems so outgoing should cower in the face of a crowd, but it's not like you can really help it or anything. You lower your gaze, prepared for him to laugh at you for being a wimp or whatever. That is in fact, the reaction you generally get from others concerning this subject.

"If you're uncomfortable here there's a few back rooms where we could talk alone." Dirk suggests, shrugging. You're a bit puzzled by his concern, and your confusion must show on your face, because he shrugs again, looking away. "Or not, if that's weird or something." You shake your head, stammering a reply.

"N-no, actually that would be brilliant." You say, a bit too forcefully. He gives you an odd look but nods and slides off of his barstool. You down the rest of your drink, making a face at the bite of the alchohol, and follow him along the back wall to a black door. The man standing outside looks at Dirk and nods, opening the door for the both of you.

The second you get away from the stifling, people-filled environment, you find it easier to breathe. You continue to follow Dirk down a narrow corridor and into a room at the end of the hall. The lights inside are dim, and as you enter, the light scent of flowers hits your nostrils. You look about, suddenly more than a bit uncomfortable upon realising the purpose of the room. You lick your lips nervously, and Dirk smirks at you.

"It's just the quietest place avaliable, calm your tits, English." He says, closing the door behind you. You relax a bit, but stand awkwardly by the door, not really sure what to do. Dirk motions to the couch in the corner, and you shuffle over, sitting down gingerly. Dirk plops next to you, leaning back a bit and stretching.

"Damn, leaning over turntables all night really fucks up your back." He comments, voice tense as he stretches his muscles out. You hum.

"I bet. I've kind of gotten used to having a tense back. When I'm not leaning over a book, I'm leaning over the computer, working on a lecture, grading quizzes and the like." You rest your hands in your lap, eyes still wandering about the dimly lit room. "Your music is quite wonderful, by the by. Top-notch, really." You say, smiling softly at Dirk. He only shrugs in response.

"It's not that great. I'm pretty much just glad I can get payed for doing something that isn't entirely shitty." He rubs his eyes, pulling his shades off for a moment, and though he didn't look directly at you, you could've sworn his eyes looked yellow or something in this light. He slips his shades back on before you can get another look, however, and crosses his legs, leaning back into the plushness of the sofa.

"So, English, what prompted the whole 'becoming a professor' thing? Would've thought you'd be the type to want to do something a bit more... I dunno, interesting." You frown. Being an English professor is perfectly interesting, and you quite enjoy it. You hold back a defensive comment, and just settle on shrugging.

"Dunno really, I've just always liked books, I guess. My grandmother used to read me adventure stories when I was young, and I pretty much grew up on books such as Robinson Crusoe. I actually had a period in my life where my greatest ambition was to live alone on an island, with only my wits and brute strength to depend on." You shake your head, a breathy chuckle escaping you. "But that's a bit silly, isn't it? Not everyone's life can be a grand adventure, now can it?" Dirk doesn't reply, and when you turn back to him, he's giving you a weird look, and although you can't see his eyes, you're sure his gaze is locked directly with yours. He looks as if he's about to say something important for a moment, but then seems to decide against it, shrugging.

"Guess not." He replies simply, and you could swear you saw the corners of his mouth twitch down the slightest amount, but he remedies the expression in less than a second. "So, clubs aren't really your thing, then?" He asks, fingers tapping out an irregular beat on the arm of the sofa. You laugh breathily, crossing one leg over the other.

"No, I'm not really a fan of the people, nor the abundance of noise that they create. I much prefer quieter spots." You reply, patting your thighs awkwardly. Dirk seems to enjoy the scene, however. He doesn't seem the type of chap to like quiet much, whereas you much prefer it to constant conversation. Dirk nods.

"Yeah, it's definitely not for everybody. I'll have to remember to bring you somewhere quieter next time." He says. You raise an eyebrow, a small, rather smug grin adorning your face.

"Next time? Are you proposing a casual meetup, or was the idea to entreat me to accompany you on a date, Strider?" You ask, watching with an amused expression as his pale, freckled cheeks gain the slightest bit of a pink color. He stutters a couple of times, and you wait patiently as he collects himself enough to respond.

"I... if you wouldn't be opposed. Of course, I'd definitely settle for just being friends, but if you're willing to, uh... that'd be great. Spectacular, even." He finally manages to say, voice a bit uneven. Your smile widens the more flustered he becomes, and you decide to take a moment to ponder the idea, just to torment him further, though you've already made your decision.

"Why not? You're interesting, and seem to be a decent fellow. I'd rather like to get to know you." You say. He visibly relaxes. Cripes, that was the largest display of emotion you'd seen from him so far, and it still seemed contained. Almost as if he was scared of showing you exactly what he was feeling. You resolve yourself to chipping away at his self-made barrier, finding who he really was, what sort of secrets he held within that rather gorgeous noggin of his.

"Good. That's... good. Do you want to exchange numbers, or...?" He asks, earlier composure returning bit by bit. You nod, pulling out your phone. It doesn't take you long to exchange contact information, and when you're done, you shoot him a quick text to confirm that you've gotten his number right.

Usually you're not one to give your phone number and a promise of a date to someone you've just met. But Dirk is different, you suppose. He's interesting. Moreso than anyone else you've had the privilege of meeting. The blonde nods after a moment, before sucking in a quick breath.

"Shit, I should probably get back out there before my boss catches me dicking around instead of working." He says, running a hand through his hair before pocketing his phone and standing. "Are you going to stay for any longer?" You ponder the question a moment before replying.

"Erm, I don't believe I will, unless you'd like some company later. As I said, clubs aren't really my scene, and..." He cuts you off, shaking his head.

"No, it's fine, I get it. Go ahead and leave if you want, I won't be offended." He pauses for a moment, tugging at the front of his shirt a bit. "I'll text you tomorrow about meeting somewhere?" He says, or rather, asks. He phrased the statement as more of a question, as if unsure of himself. You nod rather eagerly.

"Yes, of course! I'll be free tomorrow actually, as my students are on holiday, and I've done grading already." You say, grinning at him. You stand, holding out your hand for a shake. He's a bit quicker in taking your hand this time, and doesn't give you an odd look like he had when you'd first met.

"I'll, uh. I'll see you, then." He says, and you're quite amused by how anxious he seems, though he's rather good at concealing it. It would probably be frustrating, and it is to an extent, that he doesn't display much emotion, if, of course, you didn't have such a knack for reading people. You shoot him a quick 'double-pistols-and-a-wink,' and he shakes his head, but you've managed to get a small smile from him, so you're happy. He exits, and you follow after a while, feeling rather jittery. You, Jake English, have a date with a rather nice fellow.

You're excited as hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I'm so sorry for the long wait on this chapter. My summer job kept me really busy and I've been working my butt off to get this chapter done. I hope it's worth the wait and that you enjoy!

_"The love that follows us sometimes is our trouble, which we still thank as love"_  
-Macbeth, Act I, Scene VI

You're starting to get the idea that Jake's never been on a date before. 

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you're currently sitting in awkward silence in your date's car. You let out a slow exhale, looking out of the window idly. Well shit. This was going pretty damn badly. Things weren't even this awkward between you two during the game.

Oh. Yeah, Sburb? You sort of... remember that. Pretty vividly, actually. You're still not sure if it's real or not, if those events that you recall really occured. In fact, it seems extremely implausible in theory, and yet...

Yet you can't stop thinking about it. You'd first begun having dreams when you were a little over sixteen. They'd been enough to leave you lying awake at night, wondering how some people you made up in your admittedly high-functioning brain could make you feel so much. Long for so much. You felt empty without them.

Then you'd found Roxy.

You'd nearly broken down at the mere sight of her, mixing up drinks and moving to the beat of your music, painted lips pulling into a smile as she saw you staring. She'd talked to you later that evening, flirted with you, even offered some not-so-innocent 'bonding time.' You'd declined, almost reluctantly, afraid that if you did, she'd just leave. But she'd laughed it off good-naturedly, told you that you were good looking anyways, and your friendship had blossomed since then.

You'd talked to her about the Game. How it had torn you all apart, how she'd sewed your friendship back together again. You'd told her about Jake and Jane, and the trolls, and your ectobiochildren. She'd humored you. Even seemed like she believed a good bit of it. She remembered bits and pieces, here and there. You wouldn't expect any less of her, she's smart enough to have held onto a few memories.

She'd been more than a bit sympathetic about Jake. You talked about him near-constantly at first. She'd sat back and listened, comforting you whenever she noted that you were getting upset. Somehow, she had always been pretty good at that. Reading you, you mean. Then again, they all had, to an extent. You'd let them chip at the barrier keeping your emotions in place, gradually poke holes in your once-flawless mask of uncaring. You had let them in. Let them care. Let yourself care.

Let yourself love.

You had let yourself get attached to Roxy and Jane in ways that you'd never thought possible. But Jake... perhaps you had been foolish in letting yourself get caught up in his boyish grin, his eyes, the way he walked slightly too close to you, as if he had no sense of personal boundaries. Then again, you hadn't a clue about them at the time, either. He seems to have retained that, actually, though he seems more skittish around people than you remember.

Even now, the awkward silence is obviously killing him, though you believe it's less of a need to fill it that he's experiencing, and more of a need to talk to you to keep you interested. He was always far too eager to please people, and you're relieved to find that his puppyish need to make people happy was still present, even in this time. He hasn't changed too much, hasn't changed at all barely. He's just... older. Less outgoing. He seems as if he's spent this lifetime without many friends, or at least without close ones. You wish more than anything that you could've met him sooner. When he needed someone around to talk to.

He talks to you like he's relieved, like he's got all these pent up thoughts and ideas swirling around in his brain, dragging him down until he can release them. You recognize the behavior quite well. After all, it's one that you exhibit too. You just release them in creative ways. Your music, raps, art, carefully sketched diagrams of machines, and blueprints for robots. You wonder how he's managed to live with all of his wonderfully zany ideas pushing at the inside of his skull without breaking down and doing _something_. Maybe he does do something. You're really not sure, but you're also not sure how to bring something like that up in a conversation without it seeming sudden. Would it seem sudden? Or is that just a normal point of conversation? Even after years spent among people, you're still unsure of how they really work. Well, physically and mentally, yes, but emotions are... foreign to you.

The gentle tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel allows your focus to return to the moment. You decide to risk the question, even though doing so might make you seem a bit odd or forced. 

"So, what kind of stuff do you do? Besides, you know, profess and hang around in libraries all day?" You ask. He looks extremely relieved to have something to talk to you about.

"Well, I uh, I write? I mean, I dabble in short stories and such. I've got one going right now that's quite intriguing, dunno if you'd be interested in it, but it's a sort of romance type thing. Princesses in love, and all that." You hum as he perks up once he begins talking about his writing. There it is, definitely the creative outlet you knew to be necessary for him. You urge him to keep on, fully caught up in the little furrow in his brow when he talks about frustrating portions, or the way he wets his lips slightly when he's really thinking about things, crafting new ideas. 

It seems like almost no time at all passes before you're pulling into the parking lot of a small movie theatre that Jake swears by. You'd obviously anticipated a movie date, because Jake is a huge sucker for anything involving cinema. Hopefully whatever you end up watching isn't too terrible. 

You wind up getting good seats, there are only a few people besides you and Jake in the theatre, which is good. Fewer chances for your concentration on the film to be disrupted, you suppose. Hopefully Jake isn't one of those loud movie-goers. You know he's quiet verbally, but if he starts making stupid wrapper crinkly noises or slurping at the last bits of his overly sweet icee, you're not going to hesitate to flick popcorn at him.

Your movie experience actually ends up going okay, though Jake ends up stealing most of your popcorn (why he didn't just get his own container escapes you). It's all going really fucking well, actually. That is, until about half an hour into the movie, when a couple comes in late. This normally wouldn't have bothered you, but jesus christ, they are loud as hell. And... oh no.

Oh _hell_ no. No, they are not. They are not about to do what you think they're going to-

Aaaand they just sat directly in front of you. 

Who the fuck do these asshats think they are? Jesus Christ, sixteen year old alt-universe you had no idea how good he had it. You wish you hadn't wanted for the company of other people, because other people are assholes. Even Jake seems a bit perturbed as the girl in front of you pulls out her phone, which hasn't been silenced, nor the brightness on it lowered, and starts... what is she doing, checking her goddamn facebook? 

"What the fuck?" You breathe, movie forgotten as the tall douchewagon in front of Jake wraps his arm around the girl and starts murmuring in a tone that's loud enough for you to hear, but just quiet enough that you can't make out exactly what he's saying. Are they _trying_ to annoy you? 

Jake gives you an awkward sideways glance, shrugging almost apologetically, which, what the hell, this isn't his fault. The couple in front of you continues to talk throughout the next few scenes, making it exremely difficult for you to enjoy the movie you payed to be able to watch. You're almost relieved when their incessant talking ceases, but are unable to restrain your glare when they start necking _right the fuck in front of you._

Jake makes a face that most definitely mirrors your own expression, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and sighing. Jesus christ. 

Jesus. Christ.

Can you not have one timeline where things actually go right with you and Jake? All you're asking for is a somewhat romantic setting, or something fun, something positive to mark your first date with the adventurer, but holy hell. Apparently every splinter of you has shit luck, because there's no other explanation for this. 

Oh my god, they're totally having sloppy makeouts directly in front of everyone in the theatre. Do they not understand that they're in public? Are they aware that people can see them? 

Wordlessley, you reach into the mostly empty popcorn box, pulling out a single piece of over-buttered snack food and flicking it in the direction of the couple, hoping that they'll come to their senses or something. You're left frozen for a second as the popcorn kernel refuses to bounce off of the girl, instead catching on her wavy hair and lodging itself there. 

Your gaze flicks back over to Jake, who's face is currently stricken with an odd expression, almost as if he's not sure if he should be worried or amused. The combination makes him look extremely concerned, and you can't stop yourself from letting out a snort.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand, too late, however, as Jake is forced to do the same. Goddamnit, you just made possibly the least attractive sound ever to exist, and Jake's the fucking runner up, doubled over in his seat and, no joke, legitimately slapping his knee as he tries to stifle his wheezy laughter.

You're not really one to talk, seeing as you're coughing because you managed to inhale some of your own saliva as you tried to keep yourself from laughing too loudly. You're probably crying with the effort of it, and you can't really breathe, but you accidentally let out a weird noise that somehow escaped you, which just makes Jake laugh harder, and you feel even more ridiculous. 

The snogging couple pause in their face-sucking for a moment, and actually have the audacity to _shush_ you, and you just laugh harder because, fuck, the popcorn is still in the girl's hair and you think you're going to die. It's such a stupid thing to laugh at, and you wonder if you've been getting enough sleep recently if you're set off by something like this. 

You and Jake end up having to leave the movie theatre in order to calm down, and Jake keeps recounting bits of what happened, which is stupid, because you were there, you remember, it literally just happened.

"And, and when they told _us_ to be quiet, I-" Jake is practically guffawing, and you push his face away because if you look at his stupid mug anymore you're going to start laughing again, which would be counterproductive as all hell. 

"Yes, Jake, that happened two minutes ago, I was there with you, oh my god." You say, still snickering slightly. Jake sticks his tongue out at you, and you shake your head, pushing your shades up. "You're a dork."

"Yeah, well, you're a bigger dork." Jake retaliates, which only makes you roll your eyes harder. 

"Hardly, English. I don't think anyone could match your levels of derpiness." Jake smacks you in the arm and you feign hurt, though he just grins at you in return. 

"Right, well, sorry we had to leave. It wasn't like we would've been able to enjoy the movie much more anyways, though." He points out. You shrug.

"Wasn't really feeling the story that much. What can I expect from a movie you picked out, though." As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, you realize your mistake. Careful there, Dirk, you could get yourself into trouble if he notices that you know more about him than he's told you. He doesn't seem to, this time at least, thank god he's thick as fuck.

"Oi, my taste in movies is perfectly acceptable, maybe you just need to get your eyes checked." He retaliates. You start to usher him down the hall, as you two are garnering looks from staff. Probably because you're being loud and are just lingering around like a pair of doofuses, but whatever. 

"Yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that, English." You sigh. He huffs at you and looks put out, and you break your poker face for a minute to wrinkle your nose at him, which makes him break and start laughing again. 

"Dude, stop laughing, you're not gonna be able to drive us home if you're this giggle-drunk. You might kill us. They'd have to start warning kids not to laugh and drive. Put it on billboards n' shit, make stupid YouTube videos showing overexaggerated scenes of vehicular homicide, all caused by the person driving chuckling a little bit. Do you want to be responsible for that, Jake?" He gives you a highly confused but mirthful look. 

"You are quite possibly the strangest chap I've had the pleasure of meeting." Your face apparently shows your worry at his comment, because he covers for it almost immediately. "No, no, I mean... it's a good thing!" He assures you, and you relax a bit. You need to calm down, honestly, you have these stupid worries that Jake will leave you again, that he'll decide he doesnt like you, that you'll fuck up royally yet again and won't be able to fix it this time.

Your worries end up being for naught, at least for the rest of the day. You and Jake spend the time walking around downtown, checking out the different stores lining the streets. You have to physically drag him away from the pet shop, nearly losing him to a small golden retriever puppy that he saw in the window and absolutely _had_ to say hello to.

One stop for shitty fast food and another car drive later, Jake is pulling into the lot of your apartment building and insisting on walking you inside. You swear, someday this kid's going to be the death of you, with his stubborn nature and gentlemanly persuasion. He chats to you about his work as you enter the building, headed for the elevator. He freezes, looking particularly nervous as he eyes up the machine. You turn to him, eyebrow cocked.

"What? Don't like elevators?" You inquire, to which he shakes his head.

"No. No, they're uh... not my cup of tea." You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant so as not to spook him. He seems more in control than he was back in your previous timeline, at least. Back then, you'd had to remain cautious, careful not to sneak up on him or get him too worked up about anything.

"You don't have to come up with me. I mean, you're not planning on coming in for long, are you?" He looks grateful, gaze still flicking to the closed elevator doors once in a while.

"Ah. Well, I suppose not. Um. I suppose I'll see you then?" He stammers in that exceedingly adorable way of his. He's almost half a foot taller than you, but still manages to be the most endearing fucker on the face of the planet.

"Yeah, see you. Thanks for today, it was fun. Text you." You reply, turning away a bit, only to be thoroughly surprised by the unpleasant feeling of Jake's face sort of awkwardly smushing against the side of yours. Oh my god. Did he just try to kiss you on the cheek?

That's fuckin' precious.

You give him an amused look as he adjusts his glasses, worrying his lip between his teeth. You roll your eyes, raising yourself up on your tiptoes to lean in and give him a small peck right on his reddening cheek. 

"You're a dork." You say, exasperation coloring your voice. There's the hint of a smile on your face, though, and Jake must notice, because all of a sudden he's grinning like an idiot and lifting you off of the ground and smothering you in a huge bear hug. You wheeze out a noise of complaint, and he sets you down, apologizing quickly. You sigh, smile still on your face, and turn as the elevator doors open. You give Jake a small parting wave, and he gives you a dorky salute in return. 

The elevator doors close, and you are left alone. But the feeling doesn't leave you. The feeling that you've finally got something really worth it to live towards, that you're finally, finally, beginning to pick up the pieces of your past that you'd left in lieu of being forgotten, though they still cling to your mind like a full-grown adventurer does to puppies.

You're fixing yourself.

Jake's fixing you.

Already, bit by bit, you can feel yourself coming out of your shell, laughing more than you have in years, joking and truly feeling more than bitter resentment for this new world. 

The Game has given you another chance with your friends. Another chance with Jake.

And damnit if you aren't going to do things right this time.


End file.
